Note: I know the first part of this sounds a bit like the movie's plot, but it's not, because in the movie the American's go to England with the sole purpose of taking the bull dragon down, In my story my American marine's leave for survival, not destruction, although it may happen later on down the line that they decide to take a dragon down :P (but it's still not their purpose.) Oh yeah and by the way, everyone else except for those mentioned in the movie are mine, as well as the story line, which focuses more on Quinn, Van Zan, Creedy, Alex, and Jared's relationships rather than their fight against dragon's. Even though the whole idea of taking out a bull is the central part in the plot, like in the movie, it isn't meant to copy the screen writers at all in any way or their original ideas--for I'll go about it differently. I love and respect the movie and anyone who took part in making it and will not nor ever make a profit off of this in any way. In other words please don't sue!

NOTE2:this story includes Van Zan and Creedy as if they never died. I brought them back because, let's face it, those parts just sucked! Why take out such awesome hunks of man meat:P

NOTE3: This story is set after the movie. it has an extreme amount of adult content with graphic language so if you are under 18 DO NOT READ! There is also quite a bit of language and violence.

I dedicate Nat and Blake to my two lovely friends Emilya and Blain, twins, who gave me the inspiration and permission to use them as archetypes in my fanfic. I hope my characters have done you both justice even though their loveliness can never be matched by yours. Thank you for showing me what true sisters are like, allowing me to be your third twin (hehe), and how different identical twins can really be.

note on Nat's name: Nat is one of my own creations and, yes, she and her sister are Russian American's--Like Emilya, Blain, and me! If you wonder, while reading this, why she has different variations in her name it's because Nadya, Natalya(Russian Natullya), Natasha, and the American "Nat" are all affectionate diminutives of the Russian Nadezhda.

Oh yeah--I almost forgot! A garroe is an underground shopping mall type thing. Enjoy!

Prologue

In the year 2012, thriteen years after the first appearance of a dragon, the earth is nearly demolished; those who still live call it the reign of fire. After thousands of years dragons, the reason for the extinction of the dinosaurs, have awoken--ruling the Earth once more. In the midst of this hellish world are a few who strive for survival in the solemn land of Northumberland, England.

Hidden underground in the garroes and subways of New York is a community equally struggling to keep the human race alive. Made up of mostly doctors, micro-biological and biological scientists and their children, ex-military personnel, and engineers. The community managed to preserve and expand what little technology they had. For years they tried to contact others, sending signals, hacking into government data bases and using their satellites, letting others--if any--know they weren't alone in this bitter wasteland. Seldomely they ventured above to the ever raging inferno over-head. When they did, it was direct and calculated, only to retrieve or scavenge for material or people. In the make-shift lab of their underground haven the scientists and doctors worked on any way possible to better ensure their survival, their only option of preserving the human race laying in their hope to make contact with others. The small community thrived, multiplying their numbers, regardless of the threat above ground.

Home sweet home

2020, Manhattan New York garroe

Living in the garroe was quite comfortable, the place practically untouched, with running water, electricity, and central heat. It was far superior than living in the labyrinth of sewers and subways, which they still used as paths--getting anywhere on the island through the twists and turns of the underground. It also accommodated the growth of their community.

The last arrivals to stretch the community's girth, showing up three years before, were an infantry of 600 marines and air force personnel, who had made it--not without hardship or casualty--from a base in Nevada. Their Commander was a Marine named Bruce Stanford, who'd been promoted to the position out of necessity. He proved to be an able leader showing that even though their government was now demolished, no president or leadership in office to speak of, he could maintain and preserve the civility of democracy although he lead with marshal law.

The marines found the fearfull little community through rock music playing on their frequency, Taylor's--the in house tech's--way of constantly communicating a never ending signal. They flew--an amazing feat--what was left of their arsenal, full of weaponry, men, and most valuable of all--wide range communicators. They had trouble flying over, being barraged by female dragons, but they successfully did it and managed to land in what was left of Kennedy, making their way to the buried garroe located under what used to be New York.

"Nadya where are you going?" yelled Blake casually, racing up the escalator after her.

"I'm going to antiquities for some answers. They're meeting in the cafeteria." The entire council, save for Stanford and Cowell, consisted of aging old men and women, hence the unpoetic epithet. The council was made up of five doctors, two marines, and a number of builders; Dr. Lisa Andolini, Dr. Lei Chang, Dr. Antonio Torres, Dr. Sangeeta Gupta, and Dr. Blake Giles, the Marine Commander Bruce Stanford and his lieutenant Jamal Cowell, an architect everyone simply called Archie and seven engineers who were known collectively as the Jacks. Despite the abundance of military in the community the council was highly revered. They kept everything running smoothly and found ways of getting to and from old unfunctioning naval and marine bases for supplies, scarcely being detected by dragons.

"About what?" Blake inquired once more as she reached her sister's side.

"Well it's a private meeting so I think it might have to do with going above ground." She said, stepping off the escalator and brusquely walking, as was her habit, to the upper level passed Monolo Blanic's and Nordstrom's.

"Why are you going...it's nothing unusual--we do it each month." Blake said, lifting her eyebrow and giving a sardonic harrumph. Natalya stopped, hooking her thumb in her jean loop and swung around to meet her twin, face to face. She sighed comically, giving Blake a feigned when-will-you-ever-learn look.

"Last night I snuck into Taylor's..." Nadya shrugged, momentarily going serious and biting her full lower lip. Blake's eyebrows shot up.

"You weren't taking any equipment were you?" She asked prudishly, pursing her lips, her eyes rounding.

"No!...I heard voices and I couldn't sleep." She sighed and stepped closer to her twin.

"So? what happened?"

"Everyone was there--I mean antiquities, and a few of Stanford's men."

"What were they doing?" Blake whispered, pulling Nadya down on a bench nearby and sittiling closer, her golden eyes sparkling. They both looked over their shoulders, marines milled about, cleaning guns and playing cards.

"They were gathered around Taylor's screen, I couldn't hear them really, but I saw the image."

"Of what?" Blake squealed.

"SHH! I'm getting there."

"Okay, sorry." Blake sat up straight, making a mock scene of good behavior.

"I think it was a satellite image...you know--one found using Emily's algorithms...looking for certain pictures--the one Taylor used to find proof that there were bull dragons."

"Yeah?"

"Yep, get this--there were little black dots around a few tanks just outside of a dilapidated building--I think it was an industrial site."

"Shit--"

"Shut up!" whispered Nadya harshly, "I have a feeling nobody knows, and the council wants it that way." Nat looked over her shoulder, noticing she'd caught Cris Rema's attention. Cris sat back, her bulky figure and big shaved head glistened with sweat. Cris was spitting some chew into a plastic cup as she played cards with the other marine's. She was large, tall for a woman and had a voice as deep as a man's. The bulky woman prided herself on her masculine qualities, often boasting about how it was needed for survival, she was the classic bully. Her masculine nature always disgusted Nat as well as the other women in the community. She held it over Nat, Blake, and Emily's heads; the fact that they weren't really military and didn't have as much experience and competence. Blake would go boiling over this, the subject of her capability already a taboo. It wasn't the fact that she had masculine qualities, for there were plenty of tom boy's in the community, it was her greasy and crude nature as well as her loud and ignorant opinion, which she never hesitated to give. Natalya turned back to Blake, keeping her voice down. "They're keeping something, Kat..." Nat affectionately warned her sister.

"Figures." Blake rolled her eyes, brushing her auburn hair away from her amber eyes. "This is big...we're not alone...where were they, in New York?"

"No...I think I heard Stanford say something about across the Atlantic." Nadya got up abruptly, looking at the clock through the shop door of Sam Goodey. "Come on."

"This is so huge..." Blake jumped up, her step a cute and cheerful bounce.

"Ugh." Nadya said under her breath, giving her twin a side glance. Why was she so damn bubbly? She thought quirking a delicately shaped eyebrow over startlingly green eyes.

"Oh my God, I can't believe it. There's people?!" She grabbed onto Nadya's arm and tugged it as she bolted toward the cafeteria.

"Whoa! Settle down!" Nadya chided, giving an amused smirk all the while trying to free her arm. She couldn't be too harsh with her sister, for she too took life in with amusement where as Blake was reserved and closed around others. Blake was only like this around her so she couldn't be overly sarcastic in her joking. She dealt with life and problems with humor and laughter, cracking jokes even when they weren't appropriate. Blake, however, became withdrawn, spoke little if none at all, and rarely laughed becoming shy and embarrassed around others. Some mistook her for proud, but that was only because she thought it useless to talk about inane things, she often--and with religious discipline--thought before she spoke, saving her breath on things she took to be base or shallow.

"Okay you can't say anything..."whispered Blake hoarsely.

"You're telling me this?" Replied Nadya sarcastically as they hunched down behind a trash receptacle and a three foot high ledge.

Don't sleep to dream

He sat rubbing his work-roughened hands over his face and aching eyes. He'd awoken again in a cold sweat after dreaming, dreaming of the bull swooping down in the darkness and spitting flames upon the partially rebuilt castle. It had been seven months since they had slain the bull in London, yet another had been circling, widening it's territory now that the other male was dead, it struck their contact in France only 4 months ago. He could hear their simple description of the bull in the audio of his mind, "C'est tres grand, plus que les autres et Il mangeait les autres aussi!" They thought they'd killed the only bull, but they were wrong. It turns out, as Alex tracked the epidemiology even farther, that the hemispheres were a sort of boundary for the two males, and now it was getting stronger as it moved north--territorially settling in a usurpers fashion on the dead bull's old Empire.

Quinn had hellish nightmares of him reaching London or Northumberland--breathing fire and wrath upon their small haven. And with the persistence of the second bull moving north, females again retreated upward away from him instinctually, for he fed on his own kind. It caused a surge in attacks and sightings. Just as they thought they were in the clear, a female attacked them in the blind of night just three and half months prior.

Sweat trickled down his neck and ran down the hard muscle of his broad chest. His hands shook as he sat in the dark--listening, assuring himself there were no leathery wing beats in the midnight air. He wouldn't be able to shut his eyes again the rest of the night, on into morning. Each time he shut them he saw the slash of a mallet like tail through dense fog and flames. His self-induced insomnia had been going on for months. He hid it rather well though, blaming his sunken features and dark under eyes on the lack of food and long hours digging around in the tunnels, but a few like Creedy, Alex, and Van Zan knew better. Fury, rage, and pain gripped him at the thought of those hellish creatures. He hated and feared the fiery beasts. The last of his courage waned as the prime of his optimism sank low behind the crest of the premier bull. The memory of his victory was growing faint and moldy like an old photograph viewed from behind dust shrouded spectacles, forgotten and unwakable like old bones never to rise after a time of retirement and rest. Images flashed before his minds eye, a giant winged female swooping and clutching the bodies of his comrades, snapping their bodies like fragile, dry twigs, tossing limp bodies into the air--flicking its neck up, catching them in its mouth. He got up abruptly and threw his anger at the vintage punching bag hanging in the corner.